Cirilo Bautista

The Fountains At Villa D'Este, Tivoli - Poem by Cirilo Bautista

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As if he owned the ocean.Here, one man’s dream explodes in water, carved in splashing splendourby lion teeth, angel mouth, breastsof virgins that do not rest. Dayand night the liquid sizzles, channelingthe dream from terrace to terrace,from stone to stone, till it gathers to a poolthat caresses the fish. My brain swimswith the fish as they trace their antiquesilence to a thousand spoutsand fountains, then back to the pool again….One dies again, also, bursting throughthe skin, and flings his wingless warsto the sun, broken and raining sadnesson the soul; but just for a moment,like spumes in air, or the swing of swansto shore, no longer, no better. Bodiesbloom and reel in space, juggled and spun bylight, by water, to flash a brilliance,no longer, no better. Was this what hethought, he who planned the garden of his mind,to freeze that brilliance? Did he, in despair,command the water to move his mindto each crevice, each pool, each silentsibilance, each flowing,each song of many endings, each murmur,while he slept, as if he owned the ocean?